


Wings of Disdain

by Zinnia_Mimosa



Series: Of Angels and Alchemy [1]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Alternate Universe - Angels, Angst, Blood and Injury, Body Horror, Gen, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, Paranoia, angel!ed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:21:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26651353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zinnia_Mimosa/pseuds/Zinnia_Mimosa
Summary: Edward had always been a surprisingly attentive boy. He's always seemed to be able to read others, figure out the world using methods few would ever think to try. But when something goes wrong when Ed and Al attempt human transmutation, the boy is left with questions that far exceed the normal reach of reality.Questions like how can a human being suddenly grow wings?
Relationships: Alphonse Elric & Edward Elric, Edward Elric & Trisha Elric, Edward Elric & Winry Rockbell
Series: Of Angels and Alchemy [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1939129
Comments: 9
Kudos: 82





	Wings of Disdain

The sky was overcast, gloomy and humid. Ed hated this kind of weather. He didn't know why, it just always made him sad. This day in particular was a crummy day for it to start raining. 

Ed had decided to accompany Trisha to the market, trailing behind her as she walked. He had been holding onto her dress, a source of comfort. On their way home, Trisha had stopped suddenly, and glanced out towards the main road. Because of her sudden stop, Ed had bumped into her. He looked up, searching her face for answers, and found concern shimmering in her eyes. 

As he followed her gaze, he took notice of the line of men in uniforms heading past town. Most of them were riding in carriages, and looked bruised and battered. A lot of them were silent, like living ghosts, drifting across the prairie.

"Mom?" Ed started quietly, unable to tear his eyes away, "What happened?"

"Those soldiers are coming back from the frontlines, honey," Trisha explained, "They’re working to protect the country."

But Ed could only frown as he watched the soldier men go by. They all seemed so..... unhappy. The way their shoulders slouched, and eyes were clouded over. It didn't make any sense to him. Why would you go off for who knows how long and fight in some dumb war if you didn't even want to be there? He couldn't help but pout. He just didn't understand it all.

"It's stupid," Ed finally said, barely a murmur. 

Trisha's eyes softened as she moved to pat his head. "They don't look like they wanna be here." Ed continued, frown deepening, "They all look tired. What are they even fighting against?" Ed asked, his eyes starting to drift.

A line creased on Trisha's forehead, her lips curled into a frown. How could one explain to a child the necessities of war? Especially of a war Trisha herself didn't necessarily agree with. She perked her lips thoughtfully. "It's... complicated, honey. Just know that some bad people made some mistakes, and not everyone was willing to look past those for peace." She said carefully, but even to her those words sounded weak.

And it showed, as Ed still looked disheartened, "This war is the reason aunty and uncle Rockbell are gone, isn't it?" He asked, with a voice too somber for a child.

Now it was Trisha's turn for her eyes to drift to the passing soldiers, a renewed tenseness in her shoulders. "Yes," She replied. "But they're not there to fight. The Rockbells just want to help people. And when this is all over, they'll be back," Trisha said, as she scooped Ed into her arms. His gaze lingered on the passing soldiers for just a moment, then back to her.

"I can't wait," He said, with the faintest traces of a smile, "Winry's been really quiet since they left. When they come back, Winry will be happy again, and she can come play with us."

Trisha smiled, and turned back towards the house. The sky had gotten darker, and it was starting to drizzle.

"I can't wait, either." She replied.

* * *

Something was wrong with Mom.

There was… there was something off about the way Mom moved. The way she’d smile and talk. But Ed didn’t know what it _was_. And it was driving him crazy. It drove him even further into frustration when Mom insisted she was fine. She'd always resolve the conversation with a gentle pat on his head and a ruffle of his hair, as she told him to go play with Al.

She refused to talk to him about it. He didn't know why, he was just trying to help! If she didn't tell him why she was upset there was nothing he could do to help her!

And he... really did want to help her. And there was one thing he _could_ do. He could help her more around the house when she asked. When she asked him to go grab something or clean something up, he’d pause for a second, for a split second preparing to protest; Then he’d see the way she rested against the side of the wall, her breathing shallow, eyes hazy, and immediately get up and do as she asked.

It was the least he could do, if he didn’t actually know what the problem was.

Sometimes, it would get to the point where Ed would have to storm off to Dad’s study, and take out his frustration with himself by reading everything he could about alchemy. Dad’s notes were… a lot sometimes, and trying to decipher some of his more complex equations would often only add to his stress. But he persevered. What else could he do?

Maybe he should tell Al? He was pretty sure his brother was starting to pick up on the way he’d avert his gaze whenever he looked at Mom. Ed considered himself pretty good at hiding his true thoughts. After all, those most skilled in reading the face also tend to be the most guarded. But even he had his moments of weakness. Al usually only got in the way when he tried to help mom because he was too young. So he resolved to keep whatever was wrong to himself. He didn't need to bother Al with his worries. He'd just be on his best behavior so that mom would start to feel better, then he wouldn't even need to tell Al!

And this worked. Mom seemed happier when he asked if he could help with dinner, or help her with the garden. He couldn't really do much, given he was five, but it was the thought that counted. All was going well.

Until it wasn't.

Ed still remembered that horrible day. The day that the two boys came home from school to find Trisha collapsed on the ground. It hadn't taken long for whatever illness had plagued her to worsen her condition. Only two days after the incident, she was dead.

Mom was dead. Mom was dead and it was all his fault. The doctors may have said there was nothing they could have done, but Ed had known something was wrong, he knew! And he just…

Why hadn't mom said anything? Why hadn't _he_ said anything?

These were all thoughts that swirled around his head as Ed sat in front of the gravestone in silence, his knees pulled up to his chest. Al sat beside him, struggling not to cry. He wasn’t even doing a very good job at hiding it, given how he bit his lip and his hands trembled.

Ed meanwhile, glared at the ground. He felt angry. Angry at mom for not trusting him. Angry at himself for not trying to do more. Angry at _Dad_ for running out on them and letting Mom _die!_ He wanted to hit something, and at the same time wanted to crumple up and scream. He hated it. He hated this feeling and wanted it to go away.

But he couldn't cry. Not again. His eyes drifted back over to Al.

No, he needed to do something to fix this. 

His dad might as well be dead to him too. If he'd been here, maybe mom wouldn't be gone. But... dad _was_ really smart. Maybe, just maybe, there was something in dad's study that he might be able to use to remedy his mistake.

* * *

"You sure everything's okay?" Al asked, leaning over Ed's notes.

Ed nodded confidently, "Yeah, I triple checked everything. It's all good. Now all we need to do is put everything together in the center of the circle and start the transmutation, and before we know it, we'll have mom back!" 

But even as he watched Al nod excitedly, Ed couldn't help but feel weird. There was some gnawing sense of unease building up in his chest. It had started to be noticeable when they'd started drawing the circle, the one from dad's books, that was supposedly used for human transmutation. As he had started to trace the chalk across the basement floor, an increasingly intense feeling of dread had begun to prickle up his spine.

It was irrational, he told himself as he drew the array. It was just nerves. But it didn't go down as he drew. Instead, it only grew. By the time he'd started drawing the center circles in the array, Ed had started to feel physically sick.

 _It's just nerves._ Ed rationalized again, putting the chalk down, and patting it off his hands once they finished, _I'm just nervous to see mom again, that's all. I wonder what she'll say when she gets back._

Ed took a deep breath, in an attempt to steel himself. In. Out. He could do this. Teacher had been scary, but efficient. After her lessons, and all the tiring days they'd spent perfecting the concepts, there was no way this could go wrong. This circle was all that stood in the way of them and having mom back. He needed to be ready, not just physically, but mentally, if he wanted to pull this off.

He shook his head, slapping his cheeks in an attempt to get himself ready, and nodded with a determined look in his eyes. He crossed over to where Al was fumbling with the elements that made up a human body. He grabbed what remained, and helped pour them into the large metal bowl they'd placed in the center of their array.

"And now, a bit of our blood, for DNA reference," Ed said. Al nodded, that same shine of determination in his eyes, as the two of them pricked their fingers, and allowed the blood to drip down into the mixture.

_This is wrong._

_Shut up. We've done everything right. It'll be fine._

"I can't believe we're really going to have mom back," Al breathed, unable to hide the glee and anticipation in his voice. Ed nodded, but he was suddenly feeling a lot more apprehensive than just a few seconds ago, as they walked to the edge of the circle.

Al crouched down, and placed his hands on the circle. Ed did the same.

_Stop. Stop._

"Are you ready?" Al asked, practically beaming, though there was the slightest bit of anxiety shining through, in the way his breathing came out uneven, his shoulders tense.

_No. No no no. This is wrong. Stop._

_Stop! We're getting mom back. Everything's in order._

_No no no no._

"Yes." Ed answered, but his knuckles were white from the way his body seemed to clench up. He tried to force a smile. He should be happy. After all their hard work, the fruits of their labor would finally be reaped. Him and Al would finally be able to hug mom again, tell her everything that had happened. He took another deep breath. Then the two of them willed the alchemy to their fingertips, and the circle began to glow an almost fantastical gold.

Funny how a fantasy can turn so twisted.

* * *

Ed wasn’t sure where he was. It was white, like, white _everywhere_. No walls, no nothing. What had he….

They’d be in the basement, preparing all the materials they would need for the human transmutation. And then…

Al! Where was he? Ed swirled around, panic flooding into his chest. What was going on? Had something gone wrong? Where was Al? Had the transmutation been successful? Was Al okay? Where-

“My my, now isn’t _this_ a surprise?”

A chill ran up Ed’s spine when he heard that voice. Slowly, the boy turned around. His eyes landed on a humanoid figure a few yards away from him. They were pure white, with large feathery wings attached to their back, and no features of any kind, except what looked like the vague shadow of a grin.

And Ed… couldn’t _read_ them. He’d never met someone he couldn’t read before. But despite that, he also didn’t feel scared. Why was that? He… he should be panicking more. Al was gone and he had no idea where he was after all. But for some reason, he simply stared, words caught in his throat. He was so busy trying to process, he almost didn’t catch the words the being spoke next.

“So, what are you doing here, Little Wing?” The figure hummed, “Unless.. Oh, I see now. You don’t _know_. Of course you wouldn’t recognize this place. Silly me.” 

Finally, Ed managed to break himself out of his confusion, and reacted by yelling at the figure, “Who are you? Where am I? Where’s Al!” He hissed, but his words came out pathetically frail and vulnerable. He hated that. Why was this place making him feel so… so…. Weird?

The figure tilted its head at Ed, “You really don’t know, do you? Hmm…. well in that case. I am what you humans call the Truth, or perhaps God, or perhaps the Universe, and I am also you,” The figure said, and finished its speech by pointing at Ed.

That was impossible. There was no such thing as God. But Ed also knew this figure wasn’t lying. He didn't know how, but he couldn't be. So, what did that mean? The whole thing was starting to give Ed a headache.

"You came here seeking something, didn't you? Well, Little Wing, I'm happy to give you the answers you seek," It said, a grin forming on its expressionless face. That wasn't at all disconcerting. 

Before Ed even had time to contemplate how foreboding that response was, dozens of black tendrils shot out from behind him, coiling around his body. He felt like his entire weight had been thrown off, an unusual heaviness in his back. He shouted, twisting and turning. He caught flashes of white and feathers, but also the gaping maw of a strange black door. Inside, an eye that seemed to bore into Ed's very skull.

And then it felt like all the information in the world was being poured into his head at once. Millions of years of knowledge, tearing apart his brain from the inside. He wanted to scream, to fight, but he could barely move. It hurt, it hurt STOP STOP PLEASE STOP-

But as quickly as it had come, it was over, and he was standing outside of the door once again.

"Soooo, how was it?" The so-called Truth drawled as it grinned at Edward.

"I... I see now. The truth to human transmutation. It's behind this door! Please, you have to-" Ed started, but as he began to turn around to face the door, a flash of white and gold caught his attention. He froze, rigid, and turned his head to his side.

Feathers. Wings. They were... coming from his back. And they were covered in a hundred golden eyes. Ed practically fell over from the shock, trying to scramble away from the things, but they just followed him. His attention turned frantically away from the door and back to the so-called Truth, looking for answers. His surprise only increased when he found the strange white being only inches away from his face.

"You were saying?" Truth asked with that same cruel grin.

Ed jumped to his feet, but almost lost his balance again, "You! What did you do to me?!" Ed snarled, his heart racing.

"Me? Oh, Little Wing, the only thing I did was show you the truth," The figure said, it's voice almost patronizing, "And for these truths, it's time you paid the toll."

"Toll?" Ed echoed, and watched in dawning horror as his leg dematerialized into nothing, reappearing on the leg of that damned Truth. Ed barely had time to scream before he was hurled back into the gate, darkness enveloping his vision and pain exploding through his senses.

* * *

The first thing Al was aware of was screaming. A wretched, raw, terrible scream, that filled Al’s head with panic. Al had never heard anything so gut retching before. Someone was in pain, a lot of pain.

He made an attempt to move, look around, find out what was going on, but everything felt _wrong._ It was wrong, the way he moved, it felt too jerky, too mechanical, like his joints weren’t working right. And there was another thing that sent waves of panic reverberating through his skull.

He couldn’t feel anything.

And suddenly everything felt too tight, too close, too small. He couldn’t _breathe_ . Why couldn’t he breathe?! Al moved to pull a hand to his chest on instinct, searching for a heartbeat, anything. Was he dying? Had something gone wrong? Why did everything seem so _cold_? But those thoughts all came to an abrupt end when he noticed two things.

One, his hand was no longer his hand. It looked like the gauntlet of one of those sets of armor dad kept in his basement for some reason. But that wasn’t important right now.

What was important was the second thing he noticed. A mass of gold and white laying down in a collapsed heap right next to him. The screaming at this point had died down to a low whimper, as Al hesitantly moved forward. There was a splashing sound, and glanced down at his... hand?

The gauntlet was covered in a reddish gold substance. It was red and viscous, and it seemed sprinkled with splotches of gold, like some kind of liquid gemstone. And the floor was absolutely covered in the stuff, and a trail of it led to the winged body that lay slumped against the floor. The figure's breathing was pained and ragged. As Alphonse's eyes dragged across the form of the figure, his breath nearly caught in his nonexistent throat, when the thing let out a wet cough, and its wings shifted to reveal its face.

“Brother!” Al shrieked in horror. The substance that had coated his 'hand' was leaking from Ed's now stump limb. _What happened to his arm? That must mean this stuff was all blood. Oh god._ Al didn’t know what was going on, what had happened, but that didn’t matter right now. Brother was hurt, and he needed to do something.

Al tentatively moved his hands to scoop up the pile of wings and flesh, but paused when his hand brushed the feathers. How was he going to do this without hurting Ed? He looked so small. Very carefully, Alphonse maneuvered his arms around the giant feathery mass, tucking his hands against his brother’s chest and pulling him close.

There was a rustling of movement in his arms, and Al looked down to see Ed’s eyes peeked open.

“Al?” His brother asked in a quiet, distant voice. His eyes weren’t their usual golden glow, instead looking glazed over and dead.

“I’m here Brother, what..” Al began, but Ed cut him off.

“S-something went wrong. It was re-rebound. I managed to save your soul by binding it to that armor...” Ed murmured. Al couldn't feel it, but he could tell from the way Ed rattled against the armor he was shaking from the effort of even trying to talk.

"W-why? Wh-hy'd it go wrong? W-where's mom?" Al hiccupped.

"D-don’t. Don’t look. It isn’t human…" Ed pleaded.

Maybe Al should have listened to him. But instead, his gaze drifted to their array, even going so far as to allow a sliver of hope into his now hollow chest. What he saw only made him immediately wish he'd heeded his brother's words. He felt sick, in a deep and personal way that made it feel like his head was being slammed against concrete.

He turned away. He couldn't throw up, and that lack of feeling somehow only made him feel worse. He needed to get Brother out of here.

"B-brother, don't move, I-I'm gonna try to pick you up," Al said shakily. Ed didn't answer, which only increased Al's panic. If Ed passed out, who's to say he would wake up again after losing so much blood?

He did his best to nestle Ed into at least an attempt at a comfortable position, but it was hard with the wings sticking out of his back. They were so big, probably bigger than Ed himself was. Alphonse eventually managed to tuck one arm under Ed's back between the wings, flipping one so that it slung over his chest, while he used his other arm to hold under the crook of Ed's legs.

 _Just hold on a little longer, brother._ Al pleaded, as the armor he was in, unfamiliar and foreign, shakily rose to its feet. _I'm not going to let you die._

* * *

Consciousness came slowly, as many things did. And boy, did it hurt. The pain was almost enough to make Ed reconsider being awake. He tried to roll over, but it felt like there was something stiff but soft in his way. A blanket? Ugh, he didn't know, his head was pounding so hard it was drowning out his thoughts.

Where was he? What had he been doing? Why was he in a.... bed? now? Okay, think. Ed may not have been willing to open his eyes yet, but a searing headache could only hold back his mind for so long. _We were in the basement, weren't we? Al and I were getting ready to perform the transmutation. What happened next....._

It.... oh yeah, now he remembered. _Something had gone wrong. He had lost his leg and Al..._

Edward jerked awake with a gasp, and let out a sharp scream as white hot pain shot through what used to be his limbs. He grimaced as he held the stump where his leg used to be, bandaged and bloody. If panic hadn't been swelling in his chest he might have taken time to wonder at how strange it both felt and looked, but at that moment...

Al! Awareness quickly took hold of Ed’s senses, as he spun his head around in a spurt of panic. “Al! Al where are you!?” He cried. All the movement just shot another bout of pain ricocheting through his body, and he barely bit back another cry. Where was Al? Had it worked? No no he couldn’t have lost him he-

He squeezed his eyes shut as a wave of nausea ran through him. Opening his eyes had felt like looking through a kaleidoscope, split into different angles and perspectives, fuzzy and unfocused.

The sound of a door opening caught his attention. “Brother? Oh, oh you’re awake!” It was Al’s voice, at least, Ed was pretty sure. It sounded like it was reverberating off of metal, like an echo, cold and distant. Ed shifted on the bed with a grunt, and this time very slowly peaked open his eyes.

A suit of armor walked in, the eyeholes in its helmet glowing with an unearthly sentience. For a few tense milliseconds, Ed experienced what felt suspiciously like a drop of distrust, unease, maybe even fear. But that was quickly overpowered by shame, horror at himself, and guilt.

“Al?” Ed asked in a quiet voice.

The armor shifted slightly at the door way, almost as if afraid to get any closer, "Yeah, brother, it's me. I'm glad you're awake," Al said, sounding relieved.

A very miniscule amount of relief fell into Ed's muscles, but this was overwhelmed quickly because _ow_. He groaned, and closed his eyes again. God, why did the whole room look like it was spinning? "How long... have I been out?" Ed asked, which came out kind of labored, and required a lot more effort than he would have liked to admit.

"Three days," Al stated simply. But that only made Ed's eyes fly open in shock.

"Three days?!" Ed repeated loudly, then groaned again and dug his head back into the pillows he was resting on. Okay, point noted, don't yell while still recovering from limb loss.

He heard Al make a move towards him with a jerk, "Brother! Calm down!" he said frantically, "You're going to tear your stitches if you keep jumping like that!"

"I can't believe it... three days," Ed breathed. Had he really been out for that long? How could he have gone unconscious like that. He'd passed out and left Al to deal with that..... that _thing_ in the basement, with their mistake. He felt sick just thinking about it.

He forced himself to open his eyes so he could look at his brother, “How are you, er, feeling?” Ed asked, and winced at how hoarse and hesitant he sounded.

For some reason, this seemed to agitate Alphonse, “Brother, you lost you lost your arm! Your leg!" He cried out, which made Ed give him a look.

"Yeah....?" He asked, confused at why Al would point that out.

There was nothing to read on Alphonse' face, his armor was static, but even then, Ed got the feeling by the way the armor shifted that his brother was clearly distressed, "Brother, you were out for a whole three days! Do you have any idea how worried I was? You could have died!" He said, as his voice raised to a near shout at the announcement of his fear.

"Well, I didn't." Ed said plainly. This didn't seem like it placated Al in the slightest.

"But what if you _had_?" Al asked, distraught.

Speaking of which, that ever present pain was starting to make Ed feel like he was going to faint. All this yelling was not helping the fact he had only just woken up after nearly dying of blood loss. He tried to shake it off, but that only made things worse. He suppressed another groan, and held his head. God, it felt like someone had driven a nail through his skull.

"There's a lot of what ifs we could worry about, but my head feels like it's going to explode so I'd rather not waste my time worrying about them." Ed responded. When Al didn't reply, Ed continued, "Besides, It's my _job_ to look after you! I'm your big brother! And I-"

 _What? Failed?_ He'd messed up. Bad. This was all his fault, and here was his brother worrying about his arm when Al had lost his entire body, thanks to Ed's foolish insistence on going through with the human transmutation.

Al was hovering above him, still radiating dismay. "Brother... you got hurt. You got hurt bad. I was so scared. What happened? What- Oh, sorry, you're probably still waking up." He paused, as he caught himself. His voice had broken several times while he'd been talking, which had felt like someone had driven a stake right through Ed's heart. Seriously, how did a suit of armor manage to look and sound so... vulnerable?

Ed shifted to try to get into a sitting position. He wanted to say something, but it seemed his body still hadn't gotten the memo that he'd been asleep for way too long, because he still felt exhausted. He took a few seconds, as he leaned against the headdress of the bed to catch his breath, eyes still closed. "Like... like I said, Al," He managed to croak out weakly, "Don't worry about me. I-I'm fine."

“You’re clearly not!” Al hissed back, but after knowing him for so long, Ed could hear the barely disguised worry in his voice. If he wasn't... _stuck in that armor_ , Ed was pretty sure his brother would have been fighting back tears. And that worry tore at something in Ed’s chest. He didn’t deserve it. He didn’t deserve his brother’s concern, not after what he’d done.

He heard the shifting of metal against metal as Al leaned back, “Ed, please be careful. Granny told me not to let you get up or else you might hurt yourself.”

“Al, you’re avoiding the question,” Ed bit back.

Through his still clearing vision, Ed was pretty sure he saw Alphonse stiffen, though how he managed to convey that through a suit of armor Ed had no idea. It could have just been the fact everything looked so blurry. Damn it, why did it all look so unfocused?

“I can’t.” Alphonse responded, which just made Ed blink in barely lucid confusion.

“What?” Ed asked dumbly.

“Feel I mean,” Al murmured awkwardly, “This body, it can’t feel anything.”

Edward made a move to lay back down, but felt an unusually stiff presence underneath him, so all he could do was lay there as he contemplated that response. He blinked, then blinked again. Shit. "Nothing?" Ed repeated, stunned into silence. Al nodded sadly. Bile rose up into Ed's throat. Not only had he ripped Al's body away from him, but the body he'd put him in couldn't even feel anything. It couldn't convey emotion. He was basically trapped in a lifeless husk.

"Al... I," Ed wanted to say something. But what was there to say? Apologize? That wouldn't suffice, not after what had happened. Despite his brother's warning, Ed tried once again to pull himself to a sitting position. He needed to do... _something_ besides just lay here!

As he moved, he felt as if his arm had just knocked into something. Like he'd pushed it hard against the wall. But it felt flat, spread out. And strangely foreign, like he hadn't used his arm in months.

Then he remembered his right arm was missing.

Still a few feet away, Alphonse fidgeted. “So you’ve uh, noticed.”

There was something white, obscuring the sides of his vision. Bad and vague memories of what had happened nights prior spilled into his head. Ed went still, and very slowly turned.

And then he definitely most certainly _did not_ scream when he saw a pair of very large wings, covered in an array of way too many golden eyes. His surprise was also definitely _not_ what caused him to try to scramble away from them, which only succeeded in knocking him off the bed into a tangle of limbs and sheets.

Oh, and pain. Because falling on the floor could not be good for someone who’d just had their limbs ripped away from them. He had to bite his lip to keep from screaming.

“Brother!” Al cried in concern, as he jumped up from where he’d been sitting and rushed over.

“Edward Elric!” Pinako chided, “What do you think you’re doing out of bed?”

Hearing Granny’s voice stilled Ed’s beating heart, if only for a second, before he once again started trying to scramble back to his feet. This only accomplished a lashing movement of wings as he tried to right himself, which in turn aggravated his wounds even further. If Ed had screamed, he didn’t hear it, because his head was spinning and the sound of static had filled his ears. 

Someone picked him up, but he couldn’t tell who. It hurt too much to keep his eyes open. He felt himself get laid back down in bed, with the added strife of now being acutely aware of the feeling of two entire limbs attached to his back. How he had managed not to notice them before was beyond him, but now that he knew they were there, it was impossible not to notice them. The feeling of sensation as they lay sprawled out atop and slightly ajar to the bed was possibly the _strangest_ thing Ed had ever felt.

He had so many questions. In fact, he had too many questions. It was making his headache worse, and since the pain in his limbs had only intensified he could barely even open his mouth without whimpering. Every time he moved even the tiniest bit, it felt like his entire arm and leg were on fire. They weren't even there anymore, but all he could feel was a sharp burn where they should have been.

"I know you must have questions," Pinako began, "I certainly do, but you aren't going to get any of them answered by overexerting yourself. You only just woke up. Stay still, and keep your head on the pillow!" She commanded, the tone of her voice leaving no room for argument. Ed's body ached way too much for him to even bother being indignant or sarcastic, so he just resigned to a curt nod.

"Can you open your eyes?" Pinako asked. Ed scrunched his eyebrows together. A good question.

"I'm'n... I guess. But do I have to?" Ed asked.

"I want you to try. Why, is something wrong with your eyes, too?" Pinako asked, and Ed was almost surprised by how much genuine worry was in that question.

"Mm, no, no," Ed stammered, "It's just..." Huff, why was talking suddenly so tiring? "Vision weird." _Yeah, greatly articulated there, Ed,_ he thought bitterly. How else was he supposed to describe the mess that had greeted him when he'd opened his eyes. A maze of angles? He was half tempted to ask them to dim the lights, but bit back the request last second. "Gimmie a sec..."

Even slower than last time, Ed peeked his eyes open. It went fine for all of about two seconds, before he heard a sharp intake of breath from Pinako, who Ed watched subtly resist the urge to back away. He also heard a gasp from Winry who, as it turned out, had been lingering just outside the door. Both her hands had shot up to her mouth on impulse. Even Al, now made stoic through that emotionless armor, seemed tense.

Their reactions immediately made Ed wish he hadn't opened his eyes. Because he knew without a doubt that _he_ was the one that had caused that reaction. Something had happened to him, and he had a sinking suspicion he knew what it was. He could see Pinako, Winry, and Al clearly, but it also felt like there was a blurred view of them from other directions, a more spread out vision. Swallowing the worry that had crawled up his throat, Ed dragged his attention back to the _wings._

And saw himself staring back at him.

His stomach dropped. What in the name of all things on this wretched Earth had happened to his body?

After what felt like an eternity, Pinako finally cleared her throat, "I see. This is what you meant. Can you... _see_ out of those?" She asked, a surprising carefulness in her tone that only made Ed feel like even more of a monster.

"Yes," He answered back, still unable to tear his gaze away from the wings. Why, of all things to be covered in, did they have to be covered in _eyes?_

"This is certainly an... interesting development," Pinako conceded, but Ed could tell that was just a gentle way of saying that he'd somehow been turned into a freak of nature. He was too tired for this. He wanted to go back to bed. 

"What kind of alchemy were you two messing with down there, exactly?" Pinako asked, incredulous.

"Nothing that would cause this!" Ed said defensively, as he waved his remaining hand at the wings. 

Pinako took off her glasses, and rubbed the bridge of her nose. "You boys..." Ed heard her mutter under her breath, "This," Pinako said, gesturing to the wings, "Is far outside my field of experience. Do you feel any pain where the wings are attached?"

"No," Ed said, confused by how surprised that answer sounded. He moved to sit up again. The headache had died down to just a gentle throb at this point, so he could probably maneuver to a sitting position without feeling like he was going to faint. He noticed his hand was shaking from nerves, but grit his teeth and ignored it, as he, probably with a bit more force than necessary, touched one of the wings.

It was possibly one of the weirdest things Ed had ever felt. He could feel the sensation of running his hand through the feathers, both in his hand and in the wing.

"I can definitely feel them," Ed responded, still kind of struck with that revelation, "But nothing hurts."

Pinako hummed thoughtfully. "Well, if that's the case, then for now, we shouldn't worry about them. What concerns me most is your loss of limbs. You should consider yourself lucky that you survived. You lost a lot of blood, you know," Pinako said in a plainness that made Ed's face go slightly pale.

"I can give you some painkillers. I've already cleaned up most of the damage as best I could while you were unconscious. From this point on you'll just need to rest." She told him. All Ed could do was nod, still too shell shocked.

The painkillers... helped, a little bit. But simple pills weren't enough to relieve the phantom burns of losing a limb, so after Pinako left, he fell back down into bed with a grunt. Great. This was just great. No leg, no arm, Al's body was gone, he had these weird hunks of feathers attached to his back, and no mom. He had to choke back the painful urge to cry at the remembrance of that thought.

Winry had remained pretty quiet through the whole exchange, looking on with a mix of worry, anger, and sadness. Ed could tell she was angry from the way she was clenching the side of the door, even if her face looked like she was on the brink of tears. She could be so confusing sometimes.

She seemed to have figured now would be as good a time as any to step forward. As she did, Ed felt a subconscious desire to try to make these... _things_ less visible to her. What would she even think of him like this? All he wanted to do was curl up into a ball and disappear. But considering that it hurt to move, he resolved to just dig his head further into the pillow. The wings, too, folded closer to his body. It was making him feel another kind of sick.

He expected a lot of things to come out of Winry's mouth, mostly that involved being yelled at. But instead, "How are you guys... feeling?" She asked, her question slow, deliberate, like someone walking on eggshells. All Ed could muster was a tired look in her direction.

"Like shit," Ed responded plainly, though not without strain in his voice. It was the nerves of preparing for something and then being completely thrown for a loop.

Winry fiddled with her hands. Her lip quivered, as she glanced between Al and Ed. Upon closer inspection, one would realize she had started trembling, too.

"I can't believe you!" She finally cried, and Ed flinched when he saw she had started to shed tears, "You could have died! You both could have died! Do you have any idea how selfish that would have been?" She snapped. Al avoided her gaze, which would have been comical given his new size, if it weren't for the gravity of the situation.

"I'm sorry," Al said weakly.

"We're sorry," Ed affirmed, as he followed Al's example of staring at the ground. There, he'd said it. "We messed up. We... damn it, Winry, we really messed up," He choked on the last words. He wouldn't cry. He couldn't cry, not in front of Alphonse, and definitely not in front of Winry. That would just make the whole thing one hundred times worse. And he wasn't sure what he would do if they both started crying. So he used his hand to cover his face, and bit his tongue until the wetness in his eyes went away.

If Winry had noticed, she didn't say anything, which Ed supposed he was grateful for.

In the quiet, Winry hobbled over to one of the chairs by the wall next to his bed. She collapsed into it, as she held her hands in her lap. Her eyes looked glazed over, red from crying, and tired. She ran a hand through her hair, still shaking. "You lost your arm, and your leg," She started softly, her knuckles whitening from the tension, "I can't believe it."

She then turned to Ed abruptly, "And what happened to you two?! How did Alphonse end up in that armor? What happened to your body? Why do you have wings?"

Ed glanced wearily at Alphonse, "How much did you tell her?" He asked. He'd been unconscious for a couple days, so he was sure Al had said at least something about why they were missing their bodies.

"Well, I said there was an alchemic rebound," Alphonse started slowly, "I don't remember how I got like this."

Ed huffed, running a hand through his hair. How was he supposed to explain what had happened to Winry? Did Alphonse even remember? "Yeah, it was an alchemic rebound. We were... well, we were trying to bring mom back," He said. Winry's eyes widened slightly. She may not have known much about alchemy, but even she knew about the taboo. But judging by the fact her reaction still looked surprisingly contained, Ed figured Al had already told her about that attempt. 

"Basically, the toll was higher than we expected, and we had to give up more than we'd thought we'd have to." Ed replied, "I... it took Al's whole body. I had to put a blood seal on that armor and use alchemy to bind his soul to it." He let out a strained, bitter laugh, "To be honest, I didn't even know if it would work."

He took another breath, this time his eyebrows furrowing into a look of annoyance. "And I still don't know why I have wings!" Ed shouted at the ceiling, throwing his hand up. 

"Not to mention that tail..." Alphonse added. _That_ opened up a whole other can of worms, though, as Ed stared at Al like he'd just seen a ghost.

"I'm sorry, brother, I think I misheard you. What did you just say?" Ed asked, putting emphasis on the what.

"Well... when I was carrying you back, I saw an um..." Al started, sounding vaguely apologetic, "A tail."

"I have a _tail_?" Ed yelped, and, despite his body's protests, threw the sheets off his bed.

Sure enough, a long, white and gold tail was tucked limply beside his legs. All Ed could do was stare at it. It was long, and narrow, with feathers fluffed up at the end of it. It flicked back and forth lazily, almost as if taunting him. Ed's breath caught in his throat. How was this possible? How could he just... grow a tail and wings? That defied all laws of equivalency. Not to mention that it simply didn't make any sense. _Where_ had he even _gotten_ them?

A small, almost inaudible thought whispered back, _maybe it was that... thing_.

Oh, yeah. That thing. The gate. The memory of such a place made Edward shiver, a bitter taste on his tongue. If that thing that had taken away his arm and leg, could they have done this? But why? There were too many unknown variables, too many things that just didn't add up.

"Brother!" He heard Al's voice, tinged with a renewed panic, "Are you okay? You look really pale."

Huh, really? Ed didn't feel that different. Well he was starting to feel sleepy, and he could practically hear his heart pounding in his head, but that was fine. He could power through it. 

"I'm f'n," Ed tried to say, but it came out slurred. "Just... gimmie a sec."

"You were hyperventilating," Al explained, grimace straining his words. Well, shit. Ed hadn't even noticed. Was he really that out of it? God, he needed to focus. His thoughts felt scattered and messy and all too much at the same time. But what kind of big brother would he be if he couldn't compose himself? He needed to relax, for Al.

"Ed, slow down, seriously," Winry added. He bit his lip. He really was bad at this whole " _trying not to worry Winry"_ business. His eyes drifted to linger on Al's body. He felt sick again. This was all just so... wrong.

What _were_ they going to do? This was beyond anything Edward or Alphonse had ever dealt with before, beyond the realm of possibility. Never had they ever even considered something like this could happen.

And for once in his life, Ed had no answers.

* * *

Since Ed had woken up, he'd been simultaneously very driven and distraught. He was unusually quiet, and had a very distant look in his eyes. Not to mention his howls of frustration could be heard from halfway across the house whenever he would lose his balance because of the wings. They really were useless. He'd also taken to keeping the tail obscured from view, keeping it hidden under his pants. Though from the way he would fidget and squirm when he sat down it was obvious to anyone with eyes that it made him uncomfortable.

Made obvious now as he sat up on the makeshift medical table Pinako had been using. He fidgeted in his seat, trying to keep the wings positioned in a way that made it so he wouldn't fall over. But every time he tried to adjust them it just felt like it threw off his balance even more. Seriously, why did they have to be so big?

“Hold still, Edward,” Pinako commanded, “You’re only going to agitate it more if you keep doing that.” Ed gripped the side of the bed tightly as Pinako fixed the bandages around his chest and where his arm used to be.

Ed wanted to complain, he really did, but since the week he'd been here recovering, he'd found it was not only tiring, but a waste of time that hardly accomplished anything. The wings attached to his back fluttered slightly as Pinako moved, and he winced when they nearly smacked her in the head. They were so annoyingly clunky.

“Put those down,” Pinako ordered.

“I can’t control them,” Ed lied, and refused to meet her eyes. Well, in his defense, it wasn't a complete lie. Ed just didn't know how to define the relationship he now held with the gate's little "gifts". They seemed to move when he willed them to move, but their movements always felt jerky, uncoordinated.

Behind him, Pinako gave a disbelieving grunt.

He huffed, and placed his chin in his hand, making a face that looked like a borderline pout. "How long will this take?" Ed asked. He really just wanted to lay down.

"It won't take as long if you quit fidgeting," Pinako replied simply. There was a sudden yank, and Ed resisted the urge to dig his fingers into the chair

"There, all done," Pinako said, pulling away. Ed turned to look at the bandages. It was still so weird. No matter how often he woke up to it, it was still strange not to see an arm there. Not to mention it still _felt_ like there was an arm there, given how much his stump itched with pain for a limb that no longer existed. He grimaced, and tried not to think about it. He'd found that it only seemed to make the sensations worse.

His quiet introspection was rudely interrupted by a knocking at the door.

"Strange, I wasn't expecting company..." Pinako muttered, "Stay here, I'll be right back."

Ed watched as Pinako left. Despite what she said, Ed lifted himself to the side of the table, his wings flapping slightly to keep him from falling as he tried to get in the wheelchair. As he did, he could see Al in the corner of his vision, watching him. 

That was something Ed had noticed too about their changes. It seemed like Al had grown a lot more hesitant to leave his side since the incident. He laid back into it, and looked up at the ceiling.

"Are you feeling any better?" Al asked, as he edged forward. 

"Well, I don't feel like I'm going to pass out from blood loss anymore," Ed said with an attempt at being humorous. It must have come off pretty pathetic though, because Al didn't relax at all. That was another thing he'd noticed. Al seemed a lot more high strung than usual. He couldn't really blame him. Al had told him about how he couldn't sleep in his new body. Ed would probably get restless too.

That reminder made Ed hunch over again, and he stared at his hands He didn't deserve Alphonse's pity. Whatever had happened to him in the gate had clearly made him less than human. Was this some kind of twisted irony, he wondered? A punishment for what he did to his brother? He had no idea. He felt like he should say something, when a loud bang from the front door interrupted him.

“Where are they!?” A voice cried out, a stranger, and Ed an Al both went very still.

 _Shit_. Who was that? He couldn't let them see him like this, not when he looked so the opposite of human.

 _But what would happen if they saw me? Would they kill me?_ Ed wondered.

_Would it be deserved?_

Stupid intrusive thoughts aside, that didn't lessen the panic. It was human nature to fight against death, no matter how much it might be warranted. He was so busy thinking about this, his mind frozen in an uncharacteristic standstill, that he didn't notice the faint cackle of gold electricity around his back. He did not, however, miss when Alphonse jerked behind him, the red and white energy behind his helmet that functioned as eyes widening ever so slightly.

"Brother, your wings-" Al started, but his words seemed to stall as they saw the face of the man who'd called out turn the corner.

Edward went stiff, and apprehension gripped his chest, as he dared to look up at the man. If the outfit was any indication, he was probably from the military.

The silence was suffocating. Neither side moved, and a tiny part of Ed was growing frantic. Was silence supposed to last this long? What the hell was this guy doing here? Well, that was a stupid question because based on the way he had charged in here all outraged and pompous Ed had a wild guess he already knew. It both pissed him off, this guy's arrogance, and filled him with uncertainty.

Why wasn't he moving? Ed dared to catch his eye. There was something about the way the man was looking at him, that seemed suspiciously like... surprise? Pity? Upon that realization a hot rush of anger stormed into Ed's blood, and affixed a glare at the strange man. The last thing he needed was pity from some stranger. He hadn't even spoken to the man yet and he was already pissing Ed off.

This glare seemed to snap the man out of whatever daze he was in, because he immediately rushed forward and scooped Ed up by the cuff of his shirt.

"What the hell did you think you were doing down there?" the strange man snarled. Ed met his glare evenly, but said nothing. What else was there to be said after what they'd done?

Before he could even consider gracing the bastard with an answer, Alphonse moved to place a hand around the man's wrist. The man jerked, and a flash of surprise danced across his face when Alphonse made himself known. 

"We're sorry," His brother said, the grief thick and painful in his voice. This seemed to make the man falter, as Alphonse whimpered out apologies. Edward wasn't sure what made the man rebuff like that, given he didn't even know Al. But to him, hearing Al speak like that felt like daggers aimed directly at his chest. 

Someone behind the bastard cleared their throat. Ed's gaze drifted, still more than a little on edge. There was a blonde haired woman in a military uniform standing a few yards away, her hands clasped together and folded by her waist. Ed caught her eye for barely a second. She seemed cold, bemused, from the way she held herself, all professionalism.

But just like the weird black haired man, there was something in her eyes that gave Ed pause. Something old and haunted. Spiraling with traces of pity, directed at him. Pinako was by her side, looking more than a little affronted. But she also wore a tightened grimace. Worry. Beside her, the strange blonde woman made eye contact with the other military man. They said a picture spoke a thousand words, and based on the way the man stiffened under her gaze, the woman's eyes must have painted a very pretty picture, because his grip on Ed's collar loosened.

"It seems I've been abrasive," The man started, his shoulders squaring, as he straightened his posture. His eyes met Ed, a new glare having long replaced that horrendous pity, "My name is Lieutenant Colonel Roy Mustang, and you have some explaining to do."

As it turns out, him and his subordinate had been investigating rumors of two powerful alchemists in the area. Those rumors had also apparently neglected to inform him that the two alchemists they were searching for were only eleven and twelve. The whole time that he was explaining this, he kept glancing over at Ed. Since Ed had already decided he didn't like this guy or the high horse he rode in on, he was quick to interpret these looks as some semblance of lingering pity.

But that wasn't it. As Ed listened longer, he began to notice something else about the Lt. Colonel. Something... weird. It unnerved Ed how little he knew about this man, but how much he seemed to know about them. He already knew they'd committed human transmutation, the ultimate sin, and that they were both alchemists, and also where they lived apparently, but Ed knew nothing about him beyond his name and rank.

And there was something else. Something off. Ed couldn't place it, but ever since the bastard had walked into Granny and Winry's house, as soon as Ed had laid eyes on him, he had gotten a strange feeling in his gut. Now, Ed wasn't one to rely on so-called "instincts", but something about this colonel was off. Something didn't add up, even with the limited knowledge Ed had about him. He tried to watch him, observe him, search his face to try to find what he was missing. But there was nothing. As if this military grade jerk could be any more irritating. 

As the conversation wrapped up, Ed felt nothing but apprehension as he watched the man get up to leave. The idea of having to listen to him for orders filled Ed with a foreign sense of foreboding wariness. But at least he was finally leaving, and Ed wouldn't have to worry about his weirdness until he came to a decision.

When the front door finally shut, he could practically feel Alphonse relax behind him. Ed himself was surprised by just how tense his body had been through the whole exchange. He slumped back into his chair. With one problem out of the way, that brought up another oddity. 

"He didn't mention the-" Ed started to say, but was cut off by a surprised gasp from Alphonse, as a flash of gold energy brought the large white wings back in their full glory. They beat once as Ed just barely managed to catch himself from falling out of the wheelchair. He heard a yelp from Alphonse, who rushed over, fully prepared to catch him. He turned to flash a glare at the wings. Why didn't anything they do make sense? The damn things had nearly pushed him over from the force at which they'd remerged, like vengeful little parasites.

But even as he glared, he was more confused than anything. How had they just disappeared like that? Could he make them do that again? It sure would be a hell of a lot more useful, given that he'd had to cut holes in his shirt in order to put it on with the wings.

Ed felt his nails dig into the arm of the wheelchair, his teeth gritted. It didn't matter. Weird bastard colonels, stupid feathers, it didn't matter. He _would_ figure out a way to fix their bodies. Anything for Al. And if that meant becoming a dog of the military, so be it.

* * *

First order of business: Ed needed to learn what these things were.

Just like that colonel, Ed knew very little about the wings. Sure, he knew that they moved when he wanted them to, but beyond that, nothing.

He was also operating under the assumption they had somehow been given to him by that gate thing. Not that he knew how or really had any evidence besides _they were both weird and covered in eyes_ , but it was at least a start.

A few thoughts had entered his head over the period prior to when the colonel had arrived. Thoughts that scared even him. Thoughts about removing the wings…. By force.

So one day, while in bed with nothing to do and guilt weighing on his conscious, he’d experimentally… poked one of the eyes.

Not with anything sharp! Just with his finger. Any thoughts of harm immediately vanished from his head because yeah, that hurt. The wing had recoiled, the eye blinking quickly. It had filled him with the same feeling he got whenever he accidentally got something in his eyes, so he’d instinctively reached to cover his face. It didn’t help at all, of course, but it had been a very odd experience overall.

Now he was in the present, a couple days after that Mustang guy had showed up. He and Al had decided to go outside to read. Ed had remembered an old legend about a supposed legendary alchemical object that supposedly ignored the laws of equivalent exchange. It had ignited in him a hope to get their bodies back.

By the time he’d combed through his third book and found nothing, he was starting to get annoyed. In part because there was very little information on the philosopher’s stones outside of their supposed properties. And also because he needed to get these.... _things_ under control. 

He stared stubbornly at the mass of feathers attached to his back with spiteful vitriol. He hadn't been able to get them to disappear again since that bastard Mustang had shown up, and it was really starting to grate on both his nerves and his back.

Ed let out a groan of frustration, and threw his hands behind his head. "This is stupid!" He snapped at nothing, "It doesn't make any sense! You can't get something from nothing, so how do they just... disappear? Where'd they come from?! Why couldn't..." he paused, and bit his lip. No. He wasn't about to finish that train of thought. Instead, he simply hung his head, as he continued to glare at the ground.

Behind him, he heard the sound of shuffling metal. "Brother?" Alphonse asked quietly. Ed dug his fingernails into the arm of his wheelchair. Damn it. Whenever Al spoke, it sent a new wave of... something down Ed's spine, a foul taste in his mouth, a poison of his own making.

It just... _why?_ That question had permeated Edward's thoughts for the past month. Why would Al lose so much while he _gained_ something? What was this supposed to prove? The answer was nothing. The world just seemed bound and determined to fuck them both over.

More quiet. "Brother," Al began, and it took more energy than Edward would have liked to admit to glance over at him. "I take it that means you haven't found anything helpful?"

Ed turned back to glare at the useless book sitting in his lap, and made a noise that was half way between a growl and a sigh, "No, nothing. It has some stuff about the philosopher's stone, but it doesn't tell us _squat_ about where to start looking. And it doesn't even mention anything about wings!" he enunciated the _wings_ part with a hiss.

For whatever reason, this seemed to elicit a flinch from Al, which made Ed pause. He wasn't sure he could tell how, given that suits of armor don't really emote.

He turned back to his book, and bore into the pages as if they could understand what his burning expression meant. As if being angry at the book would somehow help them return their bodies to normal. It of course did nothing, but it didn't stop him from glaring.

Had Ed been told he would be searching for one when he was still eight, he probably would have laughed at the idea of chasing such a baseless rumor. But then again, eight year old Ed also hadn't grown wings, another supposed impossibility.

He sighed again, for probably the umpteenth time. Then he threw his head back and called over to his little brother, "What about you? Did you find anything?"

"Uh, well, not anything about the philosopher's stone..." Al started. Ed raised an eyebrow. It sounded like Al was implying he _had_ in fact found something, but if it wasn't about the philosopher's stone...

He attempted to lean over his wheelchair to see what Al was talking about. Al in turn offered him the book. On the page for various elaborate drawings of winged people, which to some in their situation might look promising. But as soon as Ed's eyes traced across the words written on the decorated page, he scowled.

 _"The Holy Books of the East speak of the Tianshi, beings of light and goodness. I have ascribed these beings the term_ **_engelos,_ ** _or messengers, because the East seems to depict them as having the duty of communicating the will of the Gods with the emperors-"_

He didn't have to read much to know it was nonsense. "That's all just glorified legends! Why would dad even have a book like that doing in his library?" He said, and turned back to glare at his own book, which continued to be despondent to his aggression because books cannot talk.

"It does mention wings on people, though," Al pointed out, though even he sounded skeptical. "We have literally nothing else to go off of. And besides, aren't we already chasing a myth?"

"The philosopher's stone is possible in theory," Ed tried to excuse, as he waved his hand.

"And what are those theories, then?" Al countered.

"We are _not_ seriously indulging this, Al," Ed bit back, "One legend is enough. We are not chasing after another."

"We aren't chasing after anything, brother. You're sitting right here," Al remarked. Ed wanted to continue to argue, but he really couldn't come up with a good counter to that. But the idea of.... engelos, or whatever they were called, rubbed Ed the wrong way. He wanted to think up a reason to not even have to look at that book again but... with the way Al was staring at him almost expectantly, he finally relented, and snatched the book from his hands.

He very quickly skimmed the description of these 'angelos', and his frown only deepened. He turned back to Al, and pointed at the page, "Look, these peoples' wings don't have eyes, or tails. The wings in these things are probably just metaphors for like a "greater good" or something. Nothing to be taken seriously, ya know?" Ed explained. Some of the expression of hope seemed to dim from Al's, so Ed continued, a bit more rushed, "But it's fine! Remember what I said about this being caused by our attempted human transmutation?"

"Yeah," Al said, but his voice sounded somber, even through the echo of his armor, "But I still fail to understand how us trying to perform human transmutation could do this to you."

That made Ed stiffen. He had been reluctant to tell Al about what he'd seen, the gate and Truth. Did Al remember? Had he seen what Ed had seen too? Well he must have, the gate had taken his arm, so it must have been what had taken Al's body, right?

But... if Al didn't remember, then was it really his place to tell him? To remind him of that... _thing_? The memory of it sent chills up Ed's spine. He'd hate to subject Al to that knowledge. And could he even explain it in a way that didn't make him sound totally crazy? How could one explain the Truth to one who'd never seen it before?

"I... well it's hard to explain, but..." Ed said, as he tried to elaborate on what he'd seen, in a way that didn't sound completely horrifying. Based on the way Al tilted his helmet and gave Ed a look, it would seem the story only confused him more. But towards the end, he did sit up a bit straighter. He seemed to be in contemplation, raised his hand to his 'chin' in thought.

"Well, you're right in one regard, that does sound hard to believe," Al started, but based on the way he lowered his arm, body sagging, he seemed distraught, "But nothing about our situations is very believable. Are you really sure that thing is what gave you those wings?" Al asked.

"I..... don't know," Ed admitted. He hated that he didn't know. The only thing he had to go off of was that they had appeared after he had exited the gate, which was pretty damning evidence if there ever was any. But still, there was the ever present question of _why?_ Why would that thing that tore their bodies apart give him wings? It'd been bothering him since he came to the conclusion that it must have been the gate.

He shook his head, and tossed the book to the ground. "It doesn't matter how I got like this. What matters is that I fix it. And the philosopher's stone, if the rumors are true, will be able to do just that. It's supposed to bypass the laws of alchemy, right? So all we have to do is get our hands on it and we can use that to fix both of our bodies."

At least, that would be the plan if any of these books helped. With each page, it only further confirmed Ed's suspicion that they'd need help from the government, which meant, regrettably, they'd have to talk to that colonel again.

Al hummed, still looking thoughtful, "I hope you're right, brother..."

* * *

As it turned out, researching legends was hard.

Ed let out a howl of frustration, reeling back and holding his head in tired defeat. “Argh! Why is this all useless!” He seethed as he shoved the book to the side with disdain, as if it had personally offended him. Well, in a way it kind of had, considering it was all useless religious drabble, none of which was helpful.

The boy slunk back down into his seat, agitation basically radiating from his entire body. He was currently holed up in the makeshift room Pinako had lent him, books strewn across the floor. The only light was the dim glow of the few candles Ed had lit. Pinako would probably get on his case about that being bad for his eyes but honestly he was too tired to care.

“Maybe this is a waste of time,” Ed muttered to himself, as he grabbed a new book from the pile stacked precariously on the desk.

It had been a bit of a battle of pride on whether or not Ed would go to the library and pick up books that might be able to help him understand his.. Condition. But given his painful lack of knowledge the only thing he had to go off of were those old stories theists would blabber on about.

Angels.

Ed was _not_ an angel. He knew this. Angels couldn’t be real. They were just some fantastical idea religious folks used to make it seem like the universe in any way cared about them. But looking for any information on winged humanoids that looks like he did, with large white wings that held an unsettling number of eyes, all he got was religious babble or folktales and myths. It was exhausting.

With a _whump!_ Ed slammed the book he’d been holding closed, and slammed it down on the table with a lot more force than he’d been meaning to, and slumped down onto the table, his face covered by his arms.

* * *

Research was fun and all, but there was something else that was necessary to Ed that he was dreading: Surgery.

The pain of the surgery was almost unbearable. In fact, Ed really wasn’t sure what was worse at this point: Losing his limbs, or the process of having them reattached.

"Ed, we're going to set up the nerve endings to fit the automail. This is going to hurt, so make sure to brace yourself," Winry said. He heard her shuffling from under the damp cloth they had placed over his eyes. She then brought something to his lips. "Here, bite down on this." he grumbled something under his breath but did as she said. The thing tasted like cloth.

"Alright, you ready?" That was Pinako. Ed grit his teeth. An image of Al appeared in his mind, strengthening his resolve. _For him_. He then took a deep breath, and nodded apprehensively. 

They counted down, but nothing could have prepared him from the jolt of pain that shot through his whole body as they twisted the gear. He wanted to scream, but there the cloth was in the way so it was muffled. 

Shit, it hurt, it hurt. His brain was screaming at him, and he could barely register what was going on through the searing heat of the pain. He felt his flesh arm move up out of impulsive response to the stimuli, and felt it smack against something with a resounding thwack.

Someone made a noise of panic, and Ed felt a rush of fear. What had happened? Did something go wrong? He still had a wet cloth covering his face so he couldn’t see. His heart raced with adrenaline.

"Edward, I told you to stay still!" Pinako reprimanded, but Ed heard a hint of fear in her tone that only accelerated Ed's panic.

He spat out the cloth, and his eyes shot open as he moved the wet rag on his forehead. Had he broken something while they were aligning the nerve endings? He wanted to smack himself. He should at least be able to sit still, he thought with an inner agitation.

Edward's vision was still blurry, white splotches covering it. It'd been like that ever since him and Al had failed to bring back their mother. Plus the pain certainly didn't help. As his sight cleared up, he could make out the smaller figure of Pinako to his right, and the white and blonde form of Winry to his left. It looked like she had pulled away and was... holding her face?

She was sniffling too. Was she crying? Why? What had....

Ed's attention drifted from Winry to his arm, caught by an almost luminescent light. His.... his arm was pure white, and seemed to glow with a golden hue, all the way up to his elbow. And his hands... the fingertips had been replaced with...

Claws?

He had _claws_?

And as that revelation hit him, by then he could see clearly enough to notice something else. Winry was clutching her cheek, which along with the hand she was using were covered in blood. She was just slightly turned away from him, so he couldn't see her eyes, but he could tell she was crying.

The realization hit him like a ton of bricks. Winry was bleeding. She was trying to help him and he had _scratched_ her. A fresh wave of nausea came over him. He’d scratched her like some god damn animal!

"Edward, calm down," He heard Pinako say. He saw her approach, and in his adrenaline and horror filled mind he decided to jerk away. This proved to be a terrible idea as it only caused more pain throughout his limbs. His whole head was aching.

How could he have done something like that? _Why_ would he do something like that? Suddenly it was hard to breathe. He took big, gulping gasps. His vision had started to blur too. This all helped to increase his rising panic that he had previously been trying to swallow down. But when you're drowning in emotion and pain it's best not to swallow too much, lest you choke. 

He felt someone grab his arms, and he felt like crying out from the now numbing pain. Shit, shit. It was getting harder to stay awake. He had to practically clamp down his jaws, and dig his _claws_ into the side of the bed to keep from flailing his arms about again. Focus, focus damnit. Don't fall asleep, whatever you do don't fall asleep. If you fall asleep you might not wake up, a desperate and more than a little morbid part of his brain scolded.

Someone was talking, but with the ringing in his ears it was hard for Ed to focus on anything. His eyes were squeezed shut, but nothing seemed to help. There was also a loud beeping coming from god knows where, which really wasn't doing anything for his headache.

And for a few tense moments he just sat there. It took a while, but eventually, the blaring of white noise seemed to die down, along with his headache, as a voice broke through his pain filled thoughts.

"Ed! Ed can you hear me?" It was Winry.

"M'm sorry," Ed choked out, his breathing still funny and uneven.

"Ugh, don't talk," Winry said, her voice slightly annoyed, but just barely covering thinly disguised worry, "I'm fine. It was barely a scratch. You could have made yourself pass out from how much you were yanking around!" She said.

Ed didn't talk. He wasn't sure he could. He was pretty sure his blood pressure was still through the roof, and he was still seeing white. All he could do was stare stupidly at Winry as she muttered things under her breath. Part of him wanted to bite back a smart-mouthed retort, to be a general pain in the ass like he usually was.

But what came out instead was another muffled "Sorry," that just barely managed to slip past his lips, murmured so quietly he wasn't even sure if Winry had heard him.

* * *

Winry knew it was late, but she hadn't been able to sleep. She had certainly tried, but all she could do was lay in bed and stare at the ceiling. She knew it was silly but... she couldn't stop thinking about what had happened leading up to Ed receiving his automail. 

She remembered how her confusion turned to horror, when they'd seen Al all but burst through the front door, a suit of armor, soaked in blood; In his arms, the broken form of Edward. 

She had tried not to think about it, thrown herself into helping Pinako with the surgery and preparing the automail. And for the most part, that had worked. Really, it was just the nights that were the most unbearable, when she was alone with her thoughts. She'd close her eyes, and all she'd see would be blood. It cycled on repeat, assaulting her memory until she finally gave in to the fact she wasn't going to sleep that night, and tried - in her sleep deprived state - to work on Ed's automail instead.

And when she _did_ get to sleep it wasn't any better, because the nightmares that came from that were even worse. It was one thing to relive the memory of what had happened that night. It was another thing entirely when her unconscious mind would play all the terrible things that could have gone wrong, what could still go wrong.

One night she'd dreamt of Ed coughing of blood because something went wrong with the surgery. There had been so, so much blood, it felt like the room had been flooded in it. Winry had woken up in tears, and covered her mouth with her hand to choke back the noise. She hadn't been able to get to sleep at all the rest of that night.

This night wasn't quite as bad as that. It was just a usual sleepless stare. She'd managed to keep her eyes closed for about thirty minutes before she finally decided _screw it_ and got out of bed with a tired sigh of defeat.

She yawned, because even though she couldn't sleep didn't mean she wasn't exhausted - several nearly sleepless nights would do that to you - and tried to rub the sleep out of her eye. As she did, she felt her hand drift to the bandage on her cheek.

It hadn't been pretty, that scratch. Winry had ended up having to leave the surgery midway to clean it, in order to ensure it didn't get infected. It hadn't _felt_ as bad as Granny had made it out to seem in the moment of adrenaline, but when Winry had approached a mirror it.... yeah, it was bad. And she had felt kind of like a liar for telling Ed she was fine, because it really _did_ look ugly. It was deep, too- Winry found that out while wiping the blood off her face. 

Back to the present, Winry tore her hand away from the bandage. Ed hadn't meant it, she knew that. She knew it was sometimes normal for patients to lash out as a reflex when not given proper warning and preparation. And Ed was just so _young_ to be receiving automail.

With a sigh, Winry got up, and walked to her workshop. She paused, however, when she noticed that the patio light was on. Huh, that was strange. Maybe Al had gone outside. He apparently didn't need to sleep now, something Winry couldn't begin to imagine. 

As it turned out, no, it wasn't Al. Instead, when Winry moved to open the door, she saw none other than Ed, who was _definitely_ supposed to _not be up_ right now. She opened her mouth, fully prepared to yell at him.

But the gleam of white and gold made her breath catch in her throat. His wings were slumped over, and his claws were digging into the porch. She watched in quiet shock and curiosity as his claws dragged across the porch absent-mindedly, leaving a jagged tear in the wood. 

… But she couldn’t stare forever, and she knew Pinako would not be happy about those scratches. "If you mess up the wood, Granny's gonna kill you," Winry remarked.

Ed actually _jumped_ at her voice. She shielded her eyes as the wings and claws disappeared in a bright flash of light. He looked like a deer caught in headlights, his expression frazzled, his hair ruffled and unkempt. This didn't last long, though, because as soon as he saw Winry, a scowl returned to his face.

"Haven't you ever heard not to sneak up on people." He scolded her, but there wasn't any fire in his words. He turned his back to her and slumped back down on the porch steps, in a way that told her that yeah, he was definitely feeling the pain of that surgery. 

"What are you even doing up?" Winry asked, her eyebrows perked and her mouth quirked into a frown, "You know, most people usually _rest_ after having their automail surgery, mr. more-stubborn-than-thou."

"Hurts, couldn't sleep," Ed muttered. If he wasn't recovering Winry would have slapped him. How could someone be so smart yet so stupid at the same time?

"The fact it hurts is exactly why you need rest!" Winry said in exasperation, but her voice was low, "You're gonna end up frying your nerves if you keep trying to barrel through this, you know."

Ed was silent. Not a good sign coming from a spitfire like him. Winry rubbed her temples, and suppressed a groan.

"Go to sleep, Winry," Ed muttered, his back turned so she couldn't see his face.

"Not unless you go back to bed too," Winry countered, her hands returning to her hips, "If you think I'm going to leave you, still recovering from almost _bleeding out,_ plus the stress of surgery, on the porch, then you're an even bigger idiot than I thought you were."

Ed didn’t make any noise, so Winry took this as her que walked over to him. She was careful not to touch his wings as she did so. "If you're not gonna go back in, mind if I sit down?" She asked. Ed only shrugged, "Do what you want." He said. He did stiffen a bit when she decided to plop down next to him, and looked away, a growl building up in his throat.

"You know, you worry too much," Ed grumbled, which made Winry huff, as she folded her arms.

"ONE of us has to. " She said, only slightly indignant. After that, the two elapsed back into an awkward quiet, illuminated only by the porch light and the moon. As the silence dragged on, Winry watched with fascination as Ed's body glowed a faint white once again, and his wings reformed behind, his back in a crackle of gold electricity. His arms glowed too. The animal-like scales of the claws started from his fingertips, and almost seemed to crawl up his arms, like a spreading fungus or something. Winry bit her lip, as she couldn’t seem to tear her gaze away.

It seemed Ed had become intensely aware of her staring, because he moved his clawed arm across his lap, scowling.

"It's so stupid," He said in annoyance. Before Winry could ask what he meant, he continued, "It's like it has a mind of its own. Sometimes it disappears, sometimes it doesn't." He enunciated the end with a growl, "So you’ll stay gone for that bastard colonel, but not me?" He seemed to say at no one in particular.

Winry hummed thoughtfully. Ed really seemed to hate the wings. She couldn't really blame him, though. They _were_ weird. They were big, clunky, very hard not to notice. She was sure it made moving around even more difficult than it already was for Ed, missing a limb. Not to mention they were covered in eyes, which Winry would be lying about if she said she didn't find that at least a little bit disturbing when she'd first seen them. 

The tail wasn’t that bad. In fact, Winry thought it was almost cute, the way it would flick behind him in annoyance or puff up when he was angry. Though she wouldn’t say that to Ed.

The claws were a newer development. They were unnatural, unlike the claws of any animal Winry had ever seen before, almost artificial.

But even then.... It was still Ed.

Her gaze drifted back to the wings, and a thought occurred to her. If she was being honest, it’d been a thought that had been bouncing around her head since Ed had first woken up. "Can I touch them?" Winry aske.

Ed turned towards her, the resigned brooding swept off his face in an instant, replaced instead with something akin to surprise "Why would you want to?"

"Is that a yes or a no?" 

"It's- Winry! You can't just ask people that" Ed said, but his defense was baseless.

"Well why not? I might have to touch them when installing the port. You know we're going to have to design the automail with your-" She paused when Ed's scowl deepened, " _The_ wings in mind. Might as well get it over with now, right?"

Ed seemed to think for a moment, his lips curled into a frown. Winry sat in anticipation.

"Ugh, fine. But don't be weird about it," Ed finally said, resigned. Winry barely managed to offer an almost offended scoff before Ed extended his wing out towards her. She stiffened a bit when she saw the eyes that littered the inside of the wing, but swallowed back that trepidation. The eyes weren't even looking at her, instead averted to stare at the floor. And no matter how much Ed tried to deny it he did seem to be in control of the appendage. It was still so weird to think those eyes belonged to him.

She put her hand out, slowly, and began to run her hand down the side of the wing, moving with the direction of the feathers. Her breath caught in her throat. They were so... soft. Almost like silk, but alive. Breathing.

Apparently she had said that out loud, because Ed had stiffened up again, his cheeks flushed, "Winry-"

"I'm just saying," she said, and pursed her lips.

But Ed pulled his wing out of her reach anyway. Not that she was that affronted, it was his body afterall. She resigned to rest her hands on the porch, and turned her gaze back out to the starry countryside. 

"Hey, so.... have you and Al made any progress on researching something that could fix your bodies?" Winry voiced suddenly. The flushed look on Ed's face softened just barely, but still noticeable enough for Winry to count it as a victory, "No," He said bitterly, "It's just one dead end after the other."

"Are you really thinking about taking up that guy's offer to join the military?" Winry asked quietly, as she folded her legs into her chest. 

Ed didn't meet her stare. Instead, he stared straight ahead, out into the shadows of the night time countryside. "Yeah," He said with a certainty and drive that surprised Winry. She felt her hands tighten around her knees, that familiar feeling of worry building up in her gut. Why did that have to be the only option? Because life seemed to be hellbent on making those two's lives miserable, it seemed.

"They might make you kill people, you know," Winry said, her voice barely a whisper. Although Ed's expression didn't change, she saw the eyes on his wings widen just slightly. His feathers quivered slightly in a way that one could almost mistake for the wind.

"I won't do that," Ed said, resolute. "I'm only taking that smug bastard up on his offer because it's our only option. Once we get our bodies back, we're coming straight home."

It was impressive how driven Ed could be, even after everything that happened. As she stared at him, her eyes drifted back to his hand that he'd yanked away. She moved her hand so that it just barely brushed over Ed's. He looked like he wanted to jerk away, but she tightened her grip. "You still feel bad about scratching me?" Winry asked quietly. Ed flinched, hard, which was all the confirmation she needed. "You already apologized Ed, I'm fine."

"No, it's not," Ed murmured, like he was trying to convince himself.

Unperturbed, she picked up his hand and held it in both of hers, carefully intertwining the sharp claws with her fingers, while she ran her free hand gently over his palm. "It was an accident. Say what you will about your wings, but these hands are your own. And I know you'd never do anything to hurt me on purpose," She said softly, her eyes downcast as she stared at his palm.

Ed had gone very, very still. He looked like he was trying very hard not to move. Probably worrying about not scratching her again, Winry thought with a pained wince, and released his hand when he very gently tugged from her grip.

Winry watched as Ed settled the hand back into his lap. As he did, they fell back into a comfortable silence. Winry turned her gaze from the claws to stare back off into the night.

Finally, Winry pushed herself back to her feet. “Alright, believe me or don’t. I’m heading back inside, it’s chilly out here,” She said, with a repressed shiver, “You coming?” She asked.

Ed stared out into space for a few more seconds. Then he nodded, “Yeah.” He said. Winry watched as he stood up. It was slow, to take into account the weight of the wings, as he gripped the side of the railing to use as support. He’d gotten a lot better at adjusting himself to take them into account, Winry noticed, when Ed didn’t lose his balance.

It was a small victory, Winry thought, as they made their way back inside, but a victory nonetheless.

* * *

Alright. He could do this. He just had to..... lift those wings of his up and move, right? That's how flying worked, yeah? He frowned as he stared intently at the rolling hills in front of him, the sunlight shimmering off his prototype automail. Al had gone off into the house to talk to Winry or something, which left him plenty of time to practice this while he was gone.

Edward took a deep breath, and slowly started to pick himself up. It took a fair bit of effort, since he was still recovering from the automail surgery. He grit his teeth, and closed his eyes. Easy, just breath. In. Out. Very slowly, he began to spread his wings.

The wind caught them almost immediately, as a sudden gust nearly swept Ed off his feet. Really, he should have been expecting it, given he lived in grasslands and it was _always_ windy. He yelped in surprise as he was thrown back, a shot of electricity striking through his automail arm and leg that made him cry out as he landed unceremoniously on his back.

Stunned, Ed stared at the sky in silence. This lasted for a whole of about two seconds before he groaned at himself, covering his face with a hand. Great, as if his automail wasn't already numb with pain. He made an attempt to stand up, but the only thing he accomplished was flapping his wings about haphazardly. He yelped as a wing slammed on the ground a bit too hard and he felt a sharp bite of discomfort.

"Need some help?" Al asked. Ed looked up with a frown. He had somehow managed to toss himself onto his stomach, the wings spread out flat against the ground in a vain attempt to right himself.

"Oh, no, I was having a fantastic time watching grass grow," Ed said sarcastically, resting a cheek on the ground.

If Al noticed his sarcasm, he didn't comment on it. Instead he sat down next to him, and offered him a glass of orange juice. Ed stared at it incredulously, to which Al only shrugs, "You've been out here all day. You're going to dehydrate yourself."

Ed took the glass with a barely muttered thanks, as he pushed himself back to his feet, and sat down in a cross legged position. He took a sip, smiling at the sour but sweet taste. He noticed Al was giving him an expectant look, and only then did he recognize this ploy for what it really was: A bribe.

"So?" Al pestered, "Why were you laying on the dirt?"

How could Ed answer that without sounding stupid? No matter how he worded it it would probably sound childish. "It was nothing. I mean, I was just.... experimenting. Yeah! Testing out these wings. I mean, just because I don't want them doesn't mean I shouldn't know what they can do, ya know?" Ed said, waving his hand as he explained. He was still a scientist after all. It made sense to want to at least know about the weird things attached to his back.

Al leaned forward, his armor creaking, his own interest peaked in a suspicious way that made Ed feel tense, "Were you trying to _fly_?" He asked, his voice raised on the last word, sprinkled with curiosity and an almost child-like sense of wonder.

"Well... yes, okay," Ed said, defeated. He didn't like the look Al was giving him, "Look, don't give me that look. I know it was stupid, I just-"

"That's not stupid!" Al commended, "It's cool! I mean, you have _wings._ Those are meant for flying, right?"

Ed leaned back in the grass, his tail looping around to rest on his lap, as he thought, "Yeah, in birds. For all we know even with wings I'm too heavy to fly. Birds have hollow bones, people do not, 'cause people aren't designed to fly." Ed stated, twirling his finger absently around a blade of grass.

"See? You _do_ wanna fly," Al said, almost cheekily.

Ed felt heat rise to his face, and his cheeks went pink. The feathers on his tail fluffed up in protest, "S-shut up!" He squawked, flushed, "I mean.. maybe" he mused, as he turned to stare up at the sky. 

It _would_ be cool. It was only natural for him to be curious about it. 

* * *

"Brother, what are you _doing_?" Alphonse asked, bewildered.

Edward was standing above some cloth and dye, looking somewhat cheeky. He raised his hands and clapped, then touched the red cloth. A brilliant display of blue energy cackled around them for a few seconds, before it died down, revealing the newly crafted attire. "Tada!" Ed proclaimed, showing off the very bright red coat he'd just made. On the back was the symbol of the Flamel.

It was kind of hard to look at if Al was being honest. Maybe this is what those scientists meant when they said that brightly colored animals tended to deter predators. Or maybe Ed's bird traits had finally spread to his brain.

"Congrats, brother, now you'll look like a parrot," Al said, only the tiniest bit of teasing in his voice. Ed looked like he was torn between being offended at the comment, and happy at the clothes.

"Hey, for your information, this looks cool as hell," He proclaimed, as he threw it on.

It didn't look.... terrible. Not as bad as Al had first assumed it would. It actually worked surprisingly well with the rest of Ed's getup. Al then continued to watch as Ed made himself a pair of white gloves. He pulled them over his hands, clenching his fist a few times. He then swiped at the air with his left arm, a look of concentration on his face.

"Hey Al," He started, as he spun around to face his brother. He was smirking, "Let's spar."

"What? Now?" Al asked, his helmet tilting, "I mean, sure, but why? And what are those gloves for?"

"I made them to make sure they hide the claws," Ed explained, moving his left hand. "The material I used is more stretchy and sturdier than regular gloves, so they should be able to hold up without tearing when the claws come out." He rolled his shoulder, a confident grin on his face, "It was all only in theory though. I wanted to test it out before we head to Central."

He threw his hand back to point at his new red coat with his thumb, "And this isn't just for looks. I made it big to hide the tail, just in case."

That made sense. Ed had been rather paranoid about people seeing the mutations, as he'd taken to calling them. Not that it was terribly unwarranted. Ever since the colonel showed up, Ed'd been attempting to figure out what would make the parts disappear like they had. He'd gotten better at it, willing them to conceal themselves, but he hadn't quite perfected it. And there was no telling how people, especially not the military heads at Central, would react to seeing a human so inhuman-like. 

"Okay," Al said, as he got into a fighting stance, "Whenever you're ready, brother."

He watched as Ed grinned over at him, getting into a fighting stance of his own. For a moment, the only sound was the wind, as the two of them stared each other down. Al waited like a statue for Ed to make the first move, keeping his eyes trained on his brother. They'd then started to circle each other, still remaining guarded and tense.

Then Ed struck out like a viper, and aimed a well placed kick at Al's helmet. Al blocked it, and side stepped to land a hit on Ed's side. He managed to dodge it, his eyes sharp and focused, no doubt in concentration. His brother ducked to the side, and lunged forward with another swipe, this time with his automail arm. Again, Al blocked, having to think fast. Ed was a lot smaller and, as a result, faster than Al was, so it meant he had to be extra sure to keep a strong defense. But smaller size also meant softer hits.

You would think that being stuck inside an indestructible suit of armor would affect Al's cautiousness, but it only made him more aware of his surroundings. They traded a few more blows, and Al just barely managed to kick Ed. It wasn't hard, but it still winded him, as he stumbled a few feet. Upon further inspection it looked like Ed was panting, sweat dripping down his forehead. 

Al also thought he saw the faintest traces of gold and blue energy sparkling through the air, like electricity.

"Tired already?" Al asked. To some, it might have sounded like a taunt, but there was also genuine concern lidden in that question.

"You kidding? I'm just getting warmed up," Ed said with a smirk.

Then he went right back into the fight, body flexing with the effort. He managed to land a good kick at Al's back, which he used to help him jump away from Al's counter.

They went on like this for about another minute or two, before Al managed to knock him over. Ed raised his hands up in defeat, still on the ground, and panting heavily.

"A-alright," He huffed, not even bothering to get to his feet, "Looks like you win again."

"Yeah, but you were pretty close to getting me that time," Al commended, his tone jovial. He actually felt better after that exercise. It was almost cathartic, in a weird way.

"Uhuh," Ed scoffed with a wave of his hand, "I think that's a nicer way of saying I didn't even come close."

Al somehow managed to look affronted. He really had gotten better at being expressive through that armor, "I'm not joking! It really is impressive how you're able to fight like that while keeping those wings down." Al said.

"It's not _that_ big of a deal," Ed remarked, wiping sweat off his brow. "A loss is still a loss. But at least it was better than last time."

This wasn't the first time they'd sparred since Ed had gotten his automail. If they were going to be travelling through Amestris looking for a way to return their bodies back to normal, they were going to need to guarantee Ed didn't accidentally reveal his wings in a fight. It wasn't effortless, hiding his wings like that. It required a good deal of concentration. But it seemed he'd gotten a lot better, given that last time Ed actually had to rematerialize the wings out of mental exhaustion of keeping them hidden.

Ed pulled himself to his feet and stretched. Then, pensively, he checked his gloves. He hadn't even _felt_ the claws, which was an improvement to be sure. And that meant no scratches. He grinned in satisfaction.

 _You're still gonna need to check to make sure they actually work with the claws eventually,_ Ed reminded himself, but shrugged the thought away. It was just a precaution after all. No need to worry about the gloves staying on if the claws stayed withdrawn, right?

"You sure you're ready for this now? You could always take the state licensing exam next year," Al remarked, as Ed patted the dirt and grass off his pant legs. 

"What? And wait around doing nothing for another year? No thanks," Ed responded, impatience practically oozing off his tongue. Their library was extensive but they'd already exhausted all their resources. If he stayed home, even if it was to get these things under control, it would only drive him stir crazy. And there was no way he was going to wait a second longer to chase after a potential fix to their bodies. No, he would just need to push through this. And he really had gotten better, he could do it on command now!

Al's gaze drifted toward the house, then back to Ed, "So are you ready for the exam, then?"

"Yeah. I'm sure it'll be fine. How hard can it be? I'll just do some fancy alchemy to impress those big wigs in central, and boom! I'll be home before ya know it," Ed said with a smile. But as he watched Al, still hesitating, his gaze softened, "I'll be fine."

"I know," Al replied.

Ed smiled at his little brother, then turned back to the house. 

It was kind of a surprise, how little of an event was made of Ed leaving. Pinako had given him a stern look and Winry had looked kind of a mix of sad and also very annoyed from the early sparring match, but they'd wished him luck anyway. Though, not before Winry had threatened to acquaint his head with a wrench if he even thought about damaging her automail. Ed was well aware that that was no empty threat, if the bruises from last time were anything to go by.

As Ed stepped onto the train, he took a deep breath. There was nothing to worry about. Al would be fine. He'd only be in central for maybe a week while he finished up the exams. Still, it was kind of unnerving, going somewhere without Al for the first time. If he was being honest, it made his chest tighten in a weird way he wasn't used to. He tried to distract himself from his nerves by looking out the train window.

He watched as the sweeping hills of Resembool began to sweep by as the train picked up speed. Ed felt his gloved hand clench. Soon he'd be arriving in central. They would be able to find answers as soon as this test was over.

And they would succeed. 

They had to.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! I hope you all enjoyed that little experiment. It was a lot of fun to write. This was mostly just a test to see if I could finish something for once, and guess what, I did! Also a big thanks to my beta reader, Gansbee! They were a huge help! 
> 
> If the ending left you confused, don't worry, there will be. This one shot was mostly meant to serve as a prologue to the upcoming angel shenanigans Ed will get up to. So stay tuned for more. ;)


End file.
